


Happiness

by TheonSugden



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Possible Homophobic Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debbie "chose" Ross, but a photo from the past reminds her of the life she truly wanted to lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness

Debbie shook Ross’ heavy arm off her waist, the hazy fragments of her brain that were working at 5:30 in the morning wondering if he’d ever be sure enough in…whatever they had to let her sleep without hanging on for dear life. She’d chosen Ross over Pete, over her family, but it still wasn’t enough. Enough to stop his fears, his insecurities…or his calling out Donna’s name in the middle of the night. 

 _I’m too tired for this,_  she thought. 

Slipping into a robe, she checked on the kids and the baby before stopping in the kitchen for a glass of water. 

The real reason she stood in the kitchen, bare feet on cold tile, was the envelope on the table. She was sure she’d dreamt about it. 

Sandy never spoke to her - even the envelope had been passed from him to Pearl to Edna, like some Christmas fruitcake - and she wasn’t sure why he’d wanted her to have it.

Maybe she’d asked him. Demanded. She was quiet - used to be quiet, when Debbie knew her ( _how can you talk like you were in a class with her, like she wasn’t…everything to you_ ) - but when she wanted something, nobody stopped her. 

Debbie worried that she’d tear the envelope open, the large brown-orange square she’d cut her fingers on in the dark, and find some letter telling her to forget they ever met, to leave her alone. Or to say she’d left her alone, abandoned her, the way Debbie had been abandoned so many times. Plain white walls with black text, seething that Debbie had never loved her, had never cared. 

Debbie wiped the tears from her eyes as she nearly went back to bed again, before muttering, “Fuck it,” and tearing open the envelope. 

It was a large photo, color. Looked like London. A school building. Lots of kids…a little older than Sarah, a little younger too.

And Jasmine.

Jasmine smiling into the camera, eyes so bright, back so straight, no one could see the loneliness. 

No one but Debbie.

She sat down on the floor, fixing her robe every once in a while, staring at the woman looking back at her, remembering the girl she’d left in prison, crying, sobbing.

“It’s not fair…” she whispered, pouting, indulging herself in a pout, because if she didn’t, she’d break down and no one could ever put her back together. 

“Debs?” she heard, said in a harsh, needy whisper.

“Go back to bed, Ross,” she tried, knowing he wouldn’t listen. 

He sat down beside her, sucking in a breath at the chill against his naked bottom. She used to tell him to put on clothes, but he never listened to that either.

“Who’s that?” he said, genuinely curious.

“Somebody I used to know,” Debbie said, flatly. 

“Nice tits,” he smirked as he ogled the snap, snatching the picture from her hand before she could give him the shove he deserved. 

“You’ll bend it…don’t…” she heard himself whine before he flipped the back over, picked up the smaller photo that fell from the envelope after his fast rustling. 

“It’s you and the posh bird…says June or July summat…either that or Jessie J…”

She grabbed both photos, looking at herself and Jasmine, not remembering where the photo had come from, or when she’d ever looked so happy. She knew it had to be before her dad had slept with Jasmine, shattered the last bit of innocence Debbie had left. She knew she was happy, and in love. Not just the idea of it, or a risk, or a thrill, not like the porno fantasy so many men in the village had taken them as being. Real, true love and happiness. 

And it was taken away, gone, snuffed out for good next to that pig Shane Doyle’s corpse.

“I don’t know why she sent me this…these…” she whispered, forgetting Ross was next to her. “Jasmine…”

He made a face - irritated and enlightened, like he just got the answer on a quiz show he didn’t like very much.

“ _Jasmine._ Izzat the one you went all lezzie with?”

Debbie did shove him that time.

“Ow!”

She began to storm upstairs before he grabbed the tie of her robe, pulling her down on top of him.

“I’m sorry, Debbie,” he said, his eyes full of pain and fear, the way they always were when she knew he wasn’t putting on a front. 

“That’s fine,” she mock-laughed, not able to be sympathetic at 6 in the morning with an idiot of a boyfriend who still saw mostly women as an excuse for hand exercises. “I guess you can tell yourself you turned me straight. Such a big man like you.”

He sat back on the cold floor, hands behind his head.

“Think a good few fellas beat me to it…” hastily adding in time with her scowl, “And I know that ain’t what it’s about. I know…I know she was a good lass. People talk in the village. Ol’ Pearl practically gave me a notebook on everybody you ever shared a cider with.”

“Of course she did,” Debbie replied, rolling her eyes, not able to work up the anger that a decade plus in this village had drained out of her. 

“I just want you to tell me. Tell me everythin’, Debs. So I’ll understand.” 

She looked away then, running her hand along his toned stomach to tell him to wait for her upstairs. 

“Not tonight, OK? Another night.”

He nodded, pretending to agree, not doing a great job of hiding his real reaction.

“I’ll keep the bed warm,” he muttered as he kissed her temple. She felt him watching her in the dark, sitting at the top of the stairs, before he finally went back to their room.

He needed her so much. She tried, and he tried, and sometimes they were really happy, and he’d been so much better with Jack and Sarah and Moses than she’d ever expected, but…he needed so much more than she could ever give him. She knew that more every day. 

“You’ll never understand,” she said, softly, to where he’d just been sitting, or maybe to herself. 

Maybe that’s why Jasmine had sent the pictures…probably waited years to do it, talked herself out of it a million times, but finally did it, while Sandy was still around, because she’d never ask Ashley to get involved. 

Ashley had never understood either. Not really. Just like Ross couldn’t. 

Maybe that’s why Jasmine had sent them. As a reminder that no one…

Debbie swallowed the tears in her throat before heading upstairs, photos left on the counter, the happy girl staring back at her.

A reminder that no one had ever understood them.

And no one ever would.


End file.
